British Maid
by kanimex3
Summary: Arthur is a relatively struggling in the financial area young British man, and Alfred F. Jones is a relatively wealthy young American man who cannot see. Arthur first meets him as his "maid." However, as the time passes, feelings continue to grow inside of him. Will Arthur continue to remain Alfred's maid, or will he become much more? A USUK fanfic. Minor pairings as well.
1. Chapter 1

**_(A/N: A USUK fanfic! I will continue to write more later on throughout the story, sorry for the very short chapter! Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia nor any of its characters.)_**

 _Attention:_

 _Looking for a house maid (or butler) that can do tasks like shopping and cleaning. Please also be willing to help with me with small or everyday tasks, and to find my way. Preferably patient, with a flexible schedule. Room is offered with the job, if not needed or wanted then please know to arrive early and might constantly have to spend the day with me. Payment and all other topics will be discussed at interviews for the job. Interviews for the job are this Saturday. If interested, please call- XXX-XXX-XXXX! Thank you!_

That was the flyer Arthur Kirkland had read on a Friday morning at a local cafe while enjoying a cup of tea. When he had spotted it, he was instantly intrigued. He'd noticed the job only listed tasks like shopping and cleaning, not cooking. He frowned slightly. He wondered why that was. He wasn't the best chef in the world (Francis and every other friend begged to differ) but his cooking was fine enough. (Once again, Francis and company and their scarred stomachs beg to differ.) He read it again, and pondered on the thought. It seemed like a nice job, and it offered a room as well. He figured that he could rent out his own apartment room and move into the room offered if it wasn't with some creep if he got the job. That way, he'd make even more money. He hadn't had a job at the moment because he had been waiting for the right one, and he was living off the money his parent's had left behind. This job was great for him. He met all the requirements on the flyer, so why not? He had nothing better to do, and this was a great opportunity. He got out his phone and dialed the number. He held the phone up to his hear, where he heard it ring a few times before a rather loud, peppy male voice answered.

"Hello! Alfred F. Jones reporting! How may I help you?"

Arthur grimaced, then lowered the volume. "Yes, hello. I'm Arthur Kirkland, and I was interested in the job you posted. If you don't already have someone else in mind, I was wondering if I could come in for an interview sometime."

A loud hum was heard from the other side, which Arthur assumed was Alfred thinking on it.

After a few moments, Alfred said, "Yeah, sure! I'll interview you!"

Arthur smiled. "Great! Where should I meet you and at what time?"

Alfred chuckled. "Just come to my house! 1776 North Freedom Avenue! Come drop by around 3! Does that work for you?"

Arthur was a bit taken back. "Er, yes, it does. Thank you."

Alfred chuckled again. "No problem! See ya 'round! Bye!" He hung up.

"... Bye ... ?"

Arthur took the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a few moments, confused. From the looks of it, Alfred was younger than he had expected, way younger. He was most likely around Arthur's own age, which left him to wonder why he needed a butler or a maid. Unless his was very lazy and never cleaned up the crap in his house, he supposed. 1776 North Freedom Avenue... Freedom Avenue... Arthur ran that address through his head. Hadn't he heard a place like that before? It sounded awfully familiar, like he had heard it going around before. He shrugged, finishing his tea and leaving a tip. No matter. Tomorrow was his interview, but he didn't expect much. He walked out the cafe, heading back towards his apartment. He had some cleaning to do, and some lunch to prepare. Alfred F. Jones wouldn't be anything special.

Boy, was he so wrong.

 **(A/N: So there you have it! The first chapter to my fanfic! Reviews are always appreciated and loved, and I hope you continue to read it! I know it's short, but I will continue to write more as this story progresses. I was so frustrated because the first time I typed this it didn't save so I had to start all over again! I felt like crying, I forgot some details the second time I wrote it. Warning- never press the delete button too many times. It might take you back to your previous page. I learned it the hard way. The VERY hard way ;_;**

 **Thank you!)**


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N: Here it is, the second chapter of British Maid! Hope you like~)**

Holy. _Shit._

Those were the only two words continuously flying through Arthur's head as he stared up at the grand house (or was it a mansion?) in front of him. Bright, brass handles, polished windows, the modern style, and the perfect lawn. He stood still, open-mouthed and gaping at it. No wonder 'Freedom Avenue' had seemed so familiar! It all came back to his head. Freedom Avenue had the reputation of having extravagant houses that belonged to celebrities and entrepreneurs, and made people like him drool and envy them. He gulped, suddenly nervous. Someone living like _this, Alfred F. Jones,_ had posted that same flyer for a maid? Er, or butler, in his case. Millions of circumstances of what might go wrong soared through Arthur's head.

 _What if he thinks i'm inferior to him?_

 _What if he doesn't like me?_

 _What if he hates me and then talks bad about me?_

 _What if I say something stupid?_

 _What if I don't get the job...?_

His amount of urge to get the job overwhelmed him. Ever since a young age he had always been quite a hard worker and in high school he was the president of the student council, but he was always too ambitious to settle for a job like this. He really, _really_ wanted this job.

Realizing he had been standing on the sidewalk facing the house for more than a few minutes, gawking and looking like a bloody idiot, Arthur regained his focus and cleared his throat, walking up the steps and shakily ringing the doorbell. He wiped his hands on his pants, hoping he had dressed alright. Khaki pants, a crisp white dress shirt, and a green tie that went well with his eyes was what he chose for today. He got worried again. He'd arrived exactly at 3, assuming that was what Alfred had meant when he'd said, "drop by around 3" but he hated not having an exact time. More pessimistic thoughts arrived.

 _What if I overdressed?_

 _What if I underdressed?_

 _What if he thinks I'm ugly?_

He had no more time to think more negative thoughts before a young man about his age, maybe even a year or two younger, answered the door.

Holy. _Shit._

Alfred F. Jones was the type of man Arthur would describe as "America in human form." Blonde hair, sky blue eyes, and a tall, lean figure was his appearance. He was dressed in a shirt with the pattern of the American flag, jeans, and white socks. A pair of wire-rimmed rectangular glasses completed his look, and honestly, at Arthur's first thoughts, made him look rather handsome... for a man.

"H-Hello..." Arthur stammered.

Alfred smiled brightly, staring directly at Arthur. Almost too directly, as if he were trying very hard to keep his eyes on his face, but yet had a far away look to them. "Hello! How may I help ya?"

"U-Uh, well... I'm Arthur, and I believe you told me over the phone to come to your house for the interview for the job of your mai- butler!" Arthur was confused, had Alfred forgotten since then? Had he come to the wrong house? Gods, if he had done that, he would never live it down...

To his relief, Alfred's face lit up with recognition and he stated, "Oh yeah, I remember you! Arthur, yes, Arthur! Oh shoot, is it already that time? Yikes, it's already 3... sorry 'bout that. Oh yeah, come on in!" He opened the door wider, revealing a grand hallway with a rather fine looking carpet and shiny white tile.

"Th-thanks..." Arthur walked in, and Alfred closed the door behind them, locking the door and whistling a tune to himself. He led Arthur down the hall, turning right and entering what Arthur assumed was his office. It was a nice size, spacious and had a window with a good view of the garden right outside. It had a large desk with a computer and a big chair on wheels. Alfred grabbed the armrests securely before plopping down onto it, and Arthur awkwardly stood in front of the desk. He looked around for a chair, but there were only two bookshelves, a rug, and a plant that looked a little too deprived of water. He winced at the sight, then focused right back on Alfred, worried that he might have seen him staring around the room. But Arthur couldn't help it. Born and raised in Britain, his old home had been furnished with a touch of the "olden days," as his "friend" Francis liked to put it. "Oh cherie, we are just saying zhat you are 'orrible at cooking and zhat you are a _grand-pere_ at heart," he had said to Arthur in college, earning a smack from him.

But Alfred hadn't seemed to pay any mind to Arthur's behavior at his point, much to his relief and questioning. ' _Maybe he's one of those oblivious people that can never seem to see what's happening in front of them...?_ he thought, waiting for Alfred to speak. That made sense, Alfred was rather loud and Arthur wouldn't be surprised if he walked straight into a lovers' quarrel offering hamburgers.

Alfred stared at him with his bright blue eyes. Dear god, they were _blue,_ like a crystal clear sky Arthur wanted to stare into forev- WHAT WAS HE SAYING. Alfred was an American young man who obviously had way too much money for his own good! What the hell was Arthur thinking?

"So, Arthur Kirkland," he began, Arthur straightened up, "how old are you?"

"Twenty-three." Arthur replied.

Alfred's face lit up. Oh, you're British, that's cool!"

Arthur felt himself smiling. Normally, people would say something along the lines of "Dude, you're accent is soooo British!" And Alfred that just said the fact that he was British was cool, that had to account for something-

"Your accent is soooo British!"

Arthur face-palmed. Yes, Alfred F. Jones was most definitely American.

 **(A/N: So there you have it! The second chapter of British Maid! I'm sorry for not updating earlier, I had exams to study for and tons of cleaning to do! Please don't kill me! I'm sorry! *shot* I'm coming up with more ideas for this story as well. I hoped you liked it! 'Till next time! ^^)**


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N: And so without further ado, our favorite Brit becomes a maid~ Or, er, I mean, butler... *snickers*)**

"I'm twenty-two." Alfred grinned, Arthur's groan and face-palm gone unnoticed even still. Arthur forced a smile of his own.

"Wonderful." The Brit said, his voice straining.

Alfred continued. "So, Arthur, what do ya like to do in your free time? Any hobbies, stuff like that?"

"Ah, yes!" Arthur responded, "I love to read books, clean, and bake scones."

"Ooh, scones! Are they good?" Alfred asked, and Arthur cringed a little.

"Er, well, they're not too bad..."

"Sweet, I love hamburgers myself." Alfred shared, and Arthur wasn't surprised in the least to hear that. Alfred leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk, and Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"Well, Arthur, you're actually a great guy, and I'd love to hire you for the job!" Alfred grinned brightly, and Arthur's eyes widened. Really? This was great, he had the job, right?

"But before that, I'm gonna discuss more details, like some jobs I'll need you to do and the pay, okay?"

Arthur nodded enthusiastically, something that didn't happen very often. "A-Alright!"

Alfred nodded, resting his chin on his hands, trying to look serious. "As you might have read on the ad I posted, I offer a room in my house that you are free to move into, if you'd like. Or, even better," he threw his arms out, "you can come live here!"

... Wait, seriously?!

Arthur's jaw dropped. His first thoughts:

 _Hold on, this crazy American just offered me to come live with him in his mansion and I can accept?_

 _What if he turns out to be some creep?_

 _What the hell?_

His seconds thoughts:

 _Yes, this crazy American just offered me to come live with him in this mansion and I can accept!_

 _Wait... he's a little too stupid and more childish than a creep..._

"Oh hell yes."

Alfred pumped his fist in the air. "Yay! Then it's settled. 20 dollars an hour with full access to the house! Sound good to you?"

Arthur could hardly believe it. 20 dollars an hour. That was music to his ears and money deprived soul. "O-Of course," he choked out, barely containing his shock. "S-Sounds great. When should I move my stuff in?"

Alfred stared at him, getting up. "Well. right now would be fine! I have nothing better to do and the sooner you're able to start, the better!"

He walked around his desk to come to Arthur, but when rounding the corner of the desk, he tripped and fell to the ground, crying in surprise. Arthur, worried, quickly rushed by his side, bending down next to Alfred.

"A-Are you alright?" he asked, helping him up.

Alfred clutched his nose, smiling sheepishly. "Ehehe..." he laughed weakly, fixing his glasses which had fallen lopsided. "It's nothing. Just, you know, tripped like a regular clumsy person. Not that big of a deal."

Arthur removed his other hand from his nose, examining it. "Hmph. Fine, my ass. What if you had gotten a nosebleed? You need to be more careful, you know."

"Uh, Arthur."

"Someday, something serious will end up happening if you aren't aware of your surroundings and you're too careless."

"Arthur.."

"So you need to watch out for-"

"Arthur!" Alfred burst out, staring into Arthur's eyes. "U-uh, not to be rude or anything, but your hands are..."

"What?" Arthur looked, then quickly withdrew his hands, flushing. He had unconsciously placed his hands over Alfred's cheeks and nose, checking for cuts and potential bruises on it. He had gone on his little rant meanwhile, and didn't notice at all. "S-Sorry..."

Alfred smiled, fixing his ruffled shirt. "It's totally fine, man. Anyways, I'll show you out. Hey, um, since you might need help..." he turned around, putting his hands on the desk and moving them around. "Uh... hold on... I need to find my pen and pad..." He shuffled around papers, and almost knocked his stapler to the ground. "... Sorry, one sec.."

"Um, if you don't mind, they're right here..." Arthur said quietly, picking up a pen and a pad sitting right by the laptop to Alfred's right. Alfred turned to him and took them. scribbling down some information.

"Thanks!" he said, and tore off the paper, handing it to Arthur. "These are a few friends of mine that can help you with your packing and getting stuff here. When you get back to your place, you can call them. Don't worry. They're friendly and they know that anyone who has my number is a good person. Okay, I'll show you out!"

He walked out the door, and Arthur trailed behind him, reading the paper.

 _Honda Kiku:_ _XXX-XXX-XXXX_

 _Gilbert Beilschmidt: XXX-XXX-XXXX (he has a group of other friends he'll most likely bring over...)_

Hm... Beilschmidt. That name sounded familiar in some sort of way. It looked German, and he remembered a particular German in high school, but he couldn't remember the name.

Alfred led him back down the hallway, whistling softly. They stopped at the door, and he turned to face Arthur. "So, just give them a call, and I would try Gilbert first. Knowing him, he'll probably call his other friends and his brother will end up calling Kiku or something like that. And, also knowing the rest of them, try not to let them anywhere near alcohol, if a creepy Russian dude shows up try to avoid him, and they'll get the job done quickly for ya. Say, why don't we have a party for you? Get to know all of us."

"Really?" Arthur asked. "I mean, yes, that sounds nice, but we've only just met and I don't want to impose and what if you decide on someone else or-"

"Hey, it's completely cool!" Alfred said, putting his hand on the Brit's shoulder. His grip was surprisingly strong, and warm. Arthur could feel his heart rate slowly speeding up. "This month they were busy the whole time and could rarely come over, and now that you're here, I have company! Don't worry, I've chosen you for the job, and the party would be awesome! So, what do you say?"

Arthur cracked, looking at the numbers on the paper. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want any of this. "Yes, I'll be there for the party."

He swore Alfred's smile blinded him. "Yes! Alright! Don't worry, Artie, this is going to be the best party of your life! See ya at 7!" He opened the door, and Arthur stepped out, walking down the steps.

"Well, thank you very much," he said, and Alfred nodded, closing the door. Arthur sighed.

 _'Don't worry, Artie...'_ Alfred had said. He blushed furiously. Artie! The American had just given him a nickname, and it was Artie, for Pete's sake! He didn't know what this feeling in his chest was, but he didn't like it. He got into his car, blowing out a huff of air. The nerve of him! But, ah, it actually didn't feel uncomfortable. It felt... nice. He shook his head, pounding it on the steering wheel. No, no, no! What was he thinking? He was talking about a childish American who was too clumsy for his own good, after all! He was just confused and nervous from worrying about the interview. Yes, that was all. Just confused and nervous. He'd get to know Alfred more, and all this would go away. He shouldn't need to worry, it would get even better. He glanced at the paper again. There was one last number at the bottom.

 _Francis Bonnefoy: XXX-XXX-XXXX_

He choked on air. Bloody hell! It was the annoying Frenchman from college! They had never been friends or enemies, but he was so annoying he stuck for four years and even now they still had contact. Oh no... he was screwed.

Wait, how the fuck did Alfred know him?!

 **(A/N: There you go! Third chapter! I know, I know, I said I would update sooner, but reality crashed down on me and my school break ended before I could continue writing. Sorry! *shot***

 **Anyway, I'm running on 5 hours of sleep and about an hour of homework to go, and it's late here. But the trouble is worth it. FanFic is awesome. Reviews always appreciated!**

 **'Till next time, when Francis is introduced! Onii-san can't wait to hold you in his arms! He loves you all, you kawaii neko-chans! *sighs* That's all I can think about for Francis right now...**

 **Author-chan~)**


	4. Chapter 4

**(A/N: I'm sorry. Meet the BTT as an apology. R &R! :)**

Arthur was tense all the way home. That blasted piece of paper was on the seat of his passenger's side, and the numbers and names on there were all he seemed to see in the corner of his eyes. He came to a red light and stopped, groaning. He took another look at the paper, hoping that he had just seen the last part incorrectly. But no. Clear as day, there was a "Francis Bonnefoy" at the bottom. He let out a louder noise of frustration. How did those two know each other?! Those two seemed like the type of people who would never hang out with one another. Francis, the bloody pervert and skirt-chaser, and Alfred, the oblivious stereotypical American with more money than brain cells. And if they did hang out with each other, Arthur could only imagine how they acted.

He pulled up and entered the garage, shutting off the engine, grabbing the paper and getting out his keys. He wrestled with the keys, gritting in frustration and stumbling into his apartment. He threw the keys onto the counter, and plopped down in his sofa, looking at his small TV. He didn't turn it on, but just sat there looking at it.

He recalled that Alfred had said there would be a party for him. Today. From what he'd told him so far, he had been lonely for a while and was basically in dire need of some sort of company. Which, of course, meant a party. Geez. He'd never expected a party something as trivial as your... helper, and literally only hours after you just met and hired him! He sighed, not wanting to call any of them in, but then he would have a hard time and might be late. He begrudgingly picked up his phone, and slowly punched the numbers in. Alfred's handwriting was atrocious, something that Arthur would point out later at the party. He had some trouble making sure he was getting the numbers right. He was in too much of a hurry and shock to notice it clearly before, but Alfred had _horrible_ handwriting. It was almost as if a blind person just scribbled on there. He looked down at the phone, his thumb hovering over the call button.

 _Fuuuuck me... fuuuuck._

He pressed the call button. A few rings later, a cheerful man's voice with a spanish accent picked up.

"Hola, this is Antonio!"

Oh, Antonio? He'd meant to call Gilbert.

"Um, excuse me, but is this the number of Gilbert Beilschimdt?"

Antonio laughed. "You know Gilbert?"

"Oh, no, Alfred gave me his number. He posted an ad for a personal helper and I got the job. He insisted I move in because he also offered a room, and I accepted. He gave me some numbers, one of them belonging to Gilbert Beilschmidt. He said that they would help me move in my stuff, but, you really don't have to..."

"Vhat?! Hey, Antonio! Who are jou talking to!?" A loud voice sounded from somewhere in the background. Arthur could hear rustling and Antonio's voice saying tomething, too muffled to make out the clear words, but then the phone was jostled loudly, and the voice spoke again. "Guten tag! I hear jou're looking for zhe awesome me, Gilbert!"

Arthur grimaced. Gilbert was just as loud as Alfred, just with a German accent. "Well, Alfred gave me your number because he said that-"

"Zhat I und some of my friends vould help jou move his stuff into zhe room? Ja, sure! Antonio told me already! Boy, zhis is gonna be fun! Oy, Francis, it's Alfred's helper!"

Arthur's heart stopped. Did he just say Francis? _Francis? And he was here with Gilbert right at this moment?_

He heard the familiar, annoying French voice saying, "Oh, really? Ohonhonhon~ Who is 'e? Might you be a dear and pass me zhe phone so I could meet 'im?"

No. No! NO!

Arthur heard the phone being passed between the two, and Francis' voice, much clearer, said, "'ello! Zhis iz Francis!"

Shit.

He cleared his throat. "Um, hello."

"Ohonhonhon~ May I ask you your name?"

He swallowed nervously. "I am Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

There was an awkward silence over the phone while Arthur gripped his so tightly that if he wasn't more concerned over the fact of whether or not he should go jump off a cliff or not, he'd be worried it'd break. Five, ten, fifteen awkward and _looong_ seconds passed before the Frenchman broke the silence.

"Wait, what? Y-You are Arthur?! You mean zhe one with zhe bushy eyebrows and terrible 'air of a sheepdog?"

"Hey, shut up about my eyebrows and my hair does not resemble a sheepdog's in any way!" Arthur cried indignantly. "And yes, I am Arthur, you bloody frog!"

Francis's annoying and awfully _french_ laughter came through the phone. "Ohonhonhon~ So zhe angry British has become Alfred's maid? _Of course_ I shall 'elp you move in. It's only natural zhat a friend of Alfred's should offer 'is service. Especially since Alfred is bli-"

Francis cut off there, clearing his throat as Antonio and Gilbert shushed him from his side of the phone, making slicing movements under their necks.

"Alfred what? What is he?" Arthur asked, his voice for all three to hear since it had been on speaker the whole time, and Gilbert whispered, "Francis, ve all know zhat zhis is one secret zhat Arthur probably doesn't know yet, so shut zhe hell up und just say it vas nothing."

Francis nodded, clearing his throat again before quickly saying, "Oh, it iz nothing, mon ami. Don't worry, we'll be 'ere in about 'alf an 'our, oui?"

Arthur sighed. "Whatever." Francis hung up, and collapsed lightly back into the couch that Gilbert and Antonio were on along with him.

"Gil, Toni... Alfred didn't tell him yet, so when is 'e going to tell 'im?"

The said white haired Prussian and Spaniard thought about that for a while. Gilbert muted the TV, staring up at the ceiling, and Antonio had a frown on his face, something that was rare.

"Poor Alfred, he has all that money that his parent's throw at him to make up for the fact of what they did... He never knew them outside of that, and he's alone right now... Ever since..." Antonio trailed off, and Gilbert continued with his own thoughts.

"He's been even more secluded. But now Arthur comes along, und he's throwing a big party. I betcha everyone's gonna be zhere zhis time. He hasn't had everyone over in a long time. I knew him before zhe accident occurred and ve used to hang out all zhe time vith Matthias. Und zhen zhere's Kiku, Feli, Luddy, Ivan..."

"Remember when I found out?" Francis chuckled, "'e told me zhat even though 'e was disabled, 'e was still the awesome Hero and it's amazing zhat 'e completed 'iz education all through 'igh school and college."

"Yeah, he's strong!" Antonio said, smiling. "I met him not long after what happened, and I remember that's why Romano wasn't yelling so much and Feli was worried when I met him. His ability to cope is amazing!"

"Well he's learned to deal vith it by now. He told me zhat it no longer bothers him as much." Gilbert said. "He's used to it, and I'm just glad to see zhat Arthur has managed to open doors ve thought vhere closed."

The trio looked at each other after the moment of reminiscing passed, and then smirked.

"Better call Elizabeta before we go," Francis said, laughing. "I smell the scent of amour.~"

"Ugh, zhat demon voman has to come? Why not just Matthias?" Gilbert complained, getting out his phone and turning off the TV.

"But won't she kill you when she finds out Arthur has a new friend and he's throwing a huge party and Alfred never does that?" Antonio asked, a little to innocently and happily. Gilbert shuddered, while Francis sighed.

"Your happiness is inhuman, Toni" the Frenchman said, to which he replied, "Thanks!"

Gilbert made the call to Eliza after texting Matthias.

"Hello?" A woman's asked, brightly sweet and happy.

"Guten tag, Eliza," Gilbert replied. Before she could say something either insulting or questioning if he was calling her to bail him out of something (and no, she wouldn't) he said, "Alfred has a new "helper" for zhe house und he's throwing a party for him und I vas reminded of jour little "projects" since jou like doing zhose demonic zhings like that. Vhatever, Francis told me he could smell zhe scent of "amour," vhatever zhe hell zhat shit is, and ve're heading over to his house. I have his address, ve're going to help him move in, cuz, oh yeah, Alfred even offered him to stay there. So yeah, if jou're interested, jou can come und meet him. Jour welcome, just gave jou another zhing to do vith jour life cuz I am just zhat awesome."

A loud squeal came from Elizabeta's side. "Gilbert, why didn't you tell me sooner!" She squealed, and Gilbert could practically see her getting out paper, pencils, and cameras to hide wherever the fuck she wanted to. The woman was creepy like that. "Okay, well, this is urgent, so text me his address, okay? Get your ass over ASAP or I'll kick it, got it?! Ok, bye!"

Before she could hang up, Gilbert cried, "Vait! Eliza, he doesn't know Alfred's problem, so, yeah..."

"Oh... Poor Alfred, why didn't he tell him before he took the job? Arthur's probably wondering why he's a helper... And why he lives in a huge mansion all alone." She replied. "Well, thanks anyway, Gil, for telling me that. Bye." She hung up, and Gil took the phone away from his ear. She actually thanked him for once, and it sounded like she meant it. Beside him, Francis's smirk grew.

"Ohonhonhon~ I smell another scent of amour blossoming from our favorite Prussian~" He said, and Gilbert gave him a punch in the gut as a reply.

"Shut zhe hell up, let's go."

"Okay!' Antonio said, dragging Francis out the door as easily as if he were a little doll. Gilbert drove this time, speeding off in their rather expensive car. They were all fairly well off, with Antonio and Francis as spectacular cooks, and Gilbert came from a family similar to Alfred's, money wise.

He sighed.

Alfred was blind, and one way or another, Arthur was going to find out.

 **(A/N: I am genuinely really sorry for not updating in a really long time. Exams, school, I got really sick... and I had major writer's block. You know, fellow authors, that feeling you have when you don't know where to go from your story and you're just stuck and you- okay i'll shut up now. However, my school year ended and I happily say that I can update more! Yay! Once again, I'm really sorry for not continuing for some time! I have a really bad headache right now...):**

 **'Till next time!**

 **Author-chan~)**


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